


how to say (I love you softly)

by badtemperedchocolate



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series)
Genre: Brad likes pretty dark-haired women, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Making Perfect, Nonsense, Thanksgiving, and also shades of Denver, and breakfast foods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badtemperedchocolate/pseuds/badtemperedchocolate
Summary: A quiet night, a clear sky, and a conversation.
Relationships: Brad Leone & Claire Saffitz, Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 98





	how to say (I love you softly)

The clear, hot August day has mellowed into a softer, balmy night, winds from the water cooling the air. It’s the kind of night that reminds Claire why she’s always loved it here. The yard is quiet; she can hear the soft lapping of water and the hum of insects and the rustle of crispy, sun-warmed grass in the night breezes. She loves New York, but even so, sometimes she just needs _this_.

Everything’s calm now, the kitchen full of clean dishes, the fridge full of odds and ends of leftover Thanksgiving food.

It’s beautiful and clear and tranquil. And there’s only one thing missing.

She’s been stalling, she knows, but Claire finally settles in a lawn chair in the backyard, pulls out her phone, and texts Brad.

_do you want to talk?_

Eight seconds after she hits ‘send,’ her phone buzzes, Brad’s name on her screen alerting her to an incoming call, and Claire lets out a long breath, swiping the screen to answer. “Hey.”

(Brad always says _pick up the phone_.)

“ _Yeah, Claire, I wanna talk_.” His voice is bright. “ _First of all, though, let’s just agree that today was fuckin’ awesome.”_

She smiles in spite of herself, pulling her knees up against her chest. “It really was.”

“ _Whatcha doin’ right now?”_

“Just sitting outside. Mom went to bed already.” Claire scrapes one fingernail absently over her kneecap, scratching at the soft denim. “Where are you?”

“ _Back at the hotel_. _Molly and a bunch of others went out for drinks, but I’m fuckin’ wiped out. Gonna get to bed early._ ”

“Oh.” Does that mean he doesn’t want to talk? Does he want her to hang up? Is he trying to subtly tell her that he’s not interested in revisiting what happened? Maybe he’s trying not to make it awkward. But he _said_ he wanted to talk. But she still feels awkward now. “Yeah.”

(Claire overthinks things sometimes.)

“ _Hey, Claire, I, uh – if I was weird today, or just fuckin’ out of it, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to – I dunno, didn’t want it to be weird, okay? I just thought, y’know, I haven’t seen you since – since Denver.”_

(She woke up to find sun in her eyes, the other side of the bed empty.)

“Yeah.” Claire takes a deep breath. “Denver.”

(She clung stubbornly to denial until she walked into the bathroom to shower, and when she slipped off Brad’s shirt and saw herself in the mirror, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her pale skin was dusted with marks. Hickeys on her neck, on her chest. The bright pink rasp of beard burn on her inner thighs.)

Part of her wants Brad to go first, but then, Claire reasons, she’s the one who texted him, right? “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Or text. I wasn’t trying to blow you off.”

There’s a pause, and when he does speak, Brad’s voice is careful. “ _It’s okay. I wasn’t really sure what you wanted to say, or, I dunno, if – I dunno. I wasn’t sure.”_

It’s just so _Brad_ that she could cry. Of _course_ he wasn’t sure what to say. How many times has Brad let her take the lead, content to follow the course of action she’s deemed the best?

(They’d both had a lot of wine, but she remembers, with crystal clarity, that she’s the one who leaned across the sofa and kissed him first.)

“I guess – I thought –” she’s stumbling over the simplest things, but that’s what Brad does to her – “I thought maybe it’d be easier to talk in person, you know? But then there were cameras, and everyone else, and my _mom_ – I didn’t know what to say.”

“ _I get it, Claire. I get it._ ” She can hear him smiling. That’s reassuring. But he _knows_ her. He knows she likes her privacy where she can get it.

“I still have your shirt,” she confesses, her voice soft, like she doesn’t want the grass and trees and fireflies to hear her admit it. “I’ll give it back.”

“ _Nah, you keep it. Looked better on you._ ”

She flushes, shaking her head even as she smiles. It’s one of his handful of t-shirts he wears all the time, navy with some logo she doesn’t recognize. She woke up wearing it that morning; it’s big and soft and worn thin and it smelled like _him_ , and it’s still rolled up, tucked deep inside her suitcase, like somehow she can hide it, along with everything else.

Except she can’t. She can’t pretend, even in her own mind, that it didn’t happen.

“I’m not sorry we did it,” she says quietly. “I thought – I thought, I don’t know, maybe I should have been. But I’m not. I never was.”

“ _Only thing I’m sorry about is leaving you there,”_ Brad tells her. “ _I hated walking away. Should’ve just missed the flight, I dunno –”_

“Brad, no –” She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. “It’s okay. It’s not like you snuck out.”

(She was only half-awake, but she remembered him whispering into her ear that he had to get to the airport, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before she heard the door open and shut and he was gone, leaving just the phantom warmth of his kiss before she drifted back to sleep.)

“ _Still wish I’d stayed.”_

Claire permits herself a little soft smile. Just a little one. “You _are_ a really good cuddler.” He’s warm and strong and she doesn’t think she’s ever slept so well as she did that night, curled up in the protective circle of his arms.

“ _Like a human fuckin’ pillow, that’s me.”_

How does he do this? Every time. She was so anxious about this, so hesitant to bring up the fact that they slept together and she didn’t have a thoroughly-crafted, multi-step plan for how to address it, but somehow Brad knows how to get her to relax. He doesn’t push, but he doesn’t ignore it, either.

He just lets her work through it the way she needs to.

(Brad is _the best_.)

Claire worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Because – he doesn’t regret it, she knows, they’ve figured that out – but it still feels like a big step.

But then, Brad’s the most open, warm-hearted person she knows, and if she can’t be brave with him –

“Do you – do you want to – be my pillow again?”

There’s a brief moment before he answers, and her heart is firmly lodged somewhere in her throat when he finally says, “ _Of course I do, Claire.”_ His voice is warm and gentle. “ _Been crazy about you forever.”_

She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Oh.” She can’t stop smiling. “Okay.”

“ _Face it, Claire. You’re stuck with me now.”_

(If he were here right now, she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him.)

It’s a soft, quiet, contained happiness, all bubbling up inside her chest like pure light, and she’s smiling and looking up at the deep, dark sky and _this is what she wanted_.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it today,” she confesses, pulling her knee up against her chest. “I just – every time I looked at you –”

(She remembers the rasp of his beard against her throat, the nip of his teeth on her breast, the sting of him sucking on her fair skin.)

“ _Same fuckin’ thing here, Claire.”_ He chuckles. “ _I had to keep staring at the phone all day, just so I wouldn’t stare at you.”_

“Oh, is that why the turkey took so long?”

He huffs indignantly. “ _Hey, hey. Ain’t_ my _fault. That was all Andy.”_

“Uh-huh.”

“ _It was.”_

“Oh, sure, sure.”

“ _Keep it up, lady. See if I ever build you anything again.”_

Claire rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you will.”

“ _Yeah. I will.”_ He sighs noisily. “ _You’re a terrible influence on me, you know that?”_

Claire settles back in her chair, biting her lip.

“I know it’s late, but – do you want to come over?” 

“ _Fuck, Claire, I – I would, but it’s like midnight, I just -”_

“No, no. It’s okay.” She can spend one more night alone, right? She can. And she really is tired. “I just – I miss you.”

“ _Just saw me all day, Half-Sour._ ”

“I know.” Claire thinks for a second. “What about tomorrow? Do you want to come over for breakfast?”

“ _Breakfast, huh? You and me?”_

She pauses. “And my mom.”

“ _Oh, I’m there, Claire_.” He sounds delighted. “ _Gonna get her to tell all those embarrassing stories about you_.”

“Brad, you’re a menace.”

“ _Yeah, but I’m_ your _menace.”_

She laughs at that, head tipped back, looking up at the stars. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

* * *

The morning after Thanksgiving-in-August, Sauci pours herself a cup of coffee and starts looking through the refrigerator, trying to decide what she wants for breakfast. There are still some odds and ends from dinner yesterday, and she’s sure she can make something out of it.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs catches her off-guard, and she turns to find Claire walking into the kitchen, fully dressed and apparently awake. “Hi, Mom.”

Sauci eyes the clock. It’s just barely 7am. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Mom –”

“Honey, you’re not exactly a morning person.”

Claire opens her mouth to protest, but there’s a knock at the front door, and her eyes light up.

Sauci really isn’t trying to be smug. She isn’t. But Claire’s never been good at hiding things.

“I take it you’re expecting someone?”

Claire immediately looks faintly guilty. Sauci hides a smile. She’s seen that look before. High school Claire thought she’d snuck back into the house _so_ quietly, an hour after curfew, and she’d come downstairs for breakfast without realizing there was a hickey under her left ear.

Current-day Claire just smiles sheepishly. “Is it okay if Brad comes over for breakfast?”

Oh. So _that’s_ why.

“Well, I’m assuming he’s already here. And yes, of course. He’s delightful.”

Claire hurries off to answer the door, and Sauci just smiles into her coffee cup

There’s a moment’s pause, the door creaking, voices from the hallway. Silence that’s only just the _tiniest_ bit suspicious.

When Claire walks back into the kitchen, Brad Leone right on her heels, Sauci manages to school her features into something a little less smug, a little more innocent. “Well, good morning, Brad. Nice to see you again.”

Brad, it seems, is more of a morning person than Claire. He looks wide awake, his eyes bright. “Morning, Mrs. S.! How’d you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” she tells him. “Just watching all of you cooking yesterday was exhausting.”

Brad shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s just so _tall_ , Sauci thinks. And so broad. He fills the kitchen as much as a crowd. “You got dinner, didn’t ya? Feel real bad if we barged in, took up all your space, left ya hungry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I had plenty,” Sauci assures him. “Everything was delicious. Oh, and the pie – you two did the pie, right? That was wonderful.”

He grins, the tips of his ears red as he glances over at Claire. “Aw, I can’t take credit for that one. Claire made it.”

“But you helped with the recipe,” Claire insists, and Brad shrugs, looking not-so-secretly delighted.

“Turned out pretty good, I guess.”

Claire smiles shyly at him. “I think so.”

“Well, you make a good team.” Sauci manages to say it with perfect innocence, and the soft pink flush on her daughter’s face tells her everything she needs to know.

(It’s remarkable. Who would have ever thought that a giant, scruffy goofball like this would be the one person who understands Claire better than anyone? Sauci never would have guessed. But the way he looks at Claire when he thinks no one’s watching… )

“I was going to start breakfast,” Sauci says, “but I didn’t realize we were having company.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Mrs. S.” Brad grins at her. “Claire and I, we gotcha covered! Right, Claire?”

Claire’s still blushing, still looking up at Brad with those soft eyes. “Sure we do.”

* * *

Brad digs out eggs and butter, and Claire starts scavenging through the odds and ends left from yesterday’s whirlwind. “Omelettes sound good to everyone?” Brad asks. “Kinda my go-to.”

“I’m on board,” Sauci agrees, as Claire nods. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Nah, you just sit back and relax, Mrs. S. Really. We’ll have it ready in a jiffy.” Brad pauses. “The hell is a ‘jiffy?’ Is that, like, a real thing?”

“It’s a tiny fraction of a second,” Claire tells him.

Brad blinks. “Wait, for real?” She nods. “Huh.”

Watching the giant chaotic mess of experts take over the house yesterday was one thing. But this is something different. Now it’s just the two of them running the kitchen as Sauci watches, and it seems effortless. They step around each other, bump each other’s arms, lean over to see what the other’s doing, and finish each other’s sentences.

Sauci has never seen Claire share the kitchen so easily. Ever. With anyone.

For instance, Claire usually likes her space. She doesn’t like being crowded in the kitchen. But now, Brad sets a hand on the small of her back, leaning over her shoulder to watch her set carefully-sliced potatoes on a tray and sprinkle them with seasoning. “Lookin’ good, Half-Sour.”

Claire wrinkles her nose, looking up at him. “It’s just salt and pepper.”

“Well – y’know. Looks good.” He shrugs. “Good knife work there.”

Claire smiles at that, soft and amused, and for a moment, Sauci wonders if she should just leave the kitchen so they can kiss the way they obviously want to.

But the moment passes; potatoes are crisping in the oven, and Claire’s sorting through fruit and berries in the fridge as Brad prepares omelettes.

“You need anything there, Mrs. S.?” Brad asks as he expertly swirls the pan. “More coffee? Water? Anything?”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” She sniffs appreciatively. “Smells delicious.”

“Gonna be _excellent_ , you just wait.” Brad grins. “Claire’s a wizard. But you already know that.”

“I love it when Claire comes to visit,” Sauci tells him, perfectly aware that her daughter can hear every word. “I’ll try to help, and within thirty seconds, it’s, ‘No, Mom, not like that.’ And then a minute later, it’s, ‘You know what, Mom? I’ll just do it.’ And then I just take my wine and go relax and wait for dinner to be done.”

“ _Mom!”_ Claire gapes at her in mock indignation, even as Brad’s laughing.

“What?” Sauci shrugs. “I’m not wrong, honey.”

“Oh, she totally does that,” Brad agrees, leaning on his elbows. “You know we made sourdough bread that one time, yeah? I watched that video. Told me she didn’t touch my dough, huh? – so innocent, look at her, little Miss ‘Cannot Tell A Lie,’ but oh hey, lookie there, she’s re-shaping my dough! Behind my back!”

Claire dissolves into giggles by the time he’s done, and Brad’s face is lit up with complete, utter fondness as he watches her. Sauci just shakes her head.

_These kids._

* * *

When Brad tips a perfectly hot, fluffy French omelette onto her plate, and Claire sprinkles some salt and herbs, adds some fresh berries and squeezes lemon juice and over the potatoes and caramelized shallots, Sauci has to bite back the comment _You can bring him home anytime if he’s gonna cook like this, Claire._

(Claire gets skittish sometimes.)

“Oh, this is amazing, kids. Just amazing.”

Breakfast is a delight. Brad’s possibly the most charming person Sauci’s ever met; he’s got a million stories, all of which he tells with gusto, and the only thing more enjoyable than listening to him is watching Claire listen to him. Claire laughs, her eyes are sparkling, her spirits seem as light and carefree as Sauci’s ever seen her, and all in all, it’s just the perfect family breakfast.

When Claire says something about needing more coffee, though, Brad immediately grabs her cup. “Nah, nah, you stay put. I’ll get it. Mrs. S.? Need a fill-up?”

He takes both their cups to the kitchen, and Sauci takes the opportunity to give Claire a knowing look.

Claire, to her credit, looks sheepish. “What?”

“Something you wanna tell me?”

Her daughter blushes hotly, looking down at her plate. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re mooning over each other like teenagers, honey. It’s incredibly obvious.”

* * *

Brad’s phone buzzes as they’re cleaning up the kitchen. “It’s Chris,” he tells them, scrolling through the message. “Just checkin’ in. We’re supposed to leave for New York by noon.”

“Oh.” Right. Claire looks down at the dishes in her hands. It’s just been so _easy_ , here in the kitchen with the three of them, and she’d briefly forgotten that Brad’s only here for breakfast.

 _I wish we had more time_.

Her mom pauses, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Claire? Why don’t you go, too?”

Claire blinks. “I – Mom? But I thought –”

Her mother waves a hand. “Honey, you can come up here whenever you want, you know that. But I think maybe you two could use some time together.”

Claire flushes hotly, glancing over at Brad, who’s staring at her mother with wide eyes. “You – I mean –” he tries, “it’s – uh –”

“Oh, relax,” Sauci tells him with a smile. “It’s plain as day. Go back to the city, take the time off, just be together, okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Claire hugs her mother tightly. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, hon. Of course.” Her mom pats her back encouragingly before letting her go. “Now, _you_ , Mr. Leone.”

Brad immediately, instinctively stands up a little straighter. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Take care of her, okay?”

Claire feels Brad’s hands on her shoulders, warm and strong and comforting, as he leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. “I will.”

* * *

She wakes up the next morning in Manhattan, in her bed, wearing Brad’s shirt again.

But this time, she’s curled up on Brad’s chest, listening to his slow, steady, even breathing. He’s so warm, so easy to cuddle against, and as sore as she is from last night, she feels blissfully, perfectly comfortable.

At first she’s not sure if he’s still asleep, but she chances a look up and finds his eyes locked on her, bright and soft all at once.

She swallows. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He grins, slow and lazy. “Sleep okay?”

“More than okay.” Claire scratches her nails gently over his chest. “You really are the best pillow.”

“Good.” He leans down to kiss her gently, as light as air. “Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”


End file.
